Simple Hilarity
by mirandalynn1800
Summary: Leyla, a girl from a small town in Kansas has moved to Gotham having just finished college. She has started her job at Wayne Enterprises but is met with a terrifying fate when she is mistaken for a relative of Bruce Wayne.
1. Simple Hilarity

One of the worst experiences one can go through is being drugged and not knowing where you're waking up. I was still drowsy from whatever I had been given and my memories were skewed. I was trying desperately to remember what I had been doing before being shoved into this tiny box. I was uncomfortable. My limbs were cramping, and there were voices outside.

Gotham is a wonderful town. I'd recently moved there to start my internship at Wayne Enterprises. It wasn't a wonderful job, more paperwork than I'd have liked, but it was better than nothing, having just finished college. It was much different of a life than I was used to. No more college parties, no more cute guys asking for my number. I was lonely if I really sat down and thought about it. But I was finally thrown headfirst into the adult world and there wasn't much I could do about it.

I had met Bruce Wayne once or twice. He was a quiet, calculating man and I found him to be rather reserved and distant. I had not spoken to him face to face, but I had met his eyes across the crowd. I did not like him. He made me uncomfortable. His eyes were too strong. They seemed to know what you were thinking.

Before I had ended up stranded in this god forsaken box, I had gotten off of work and was heading home to my small apartment on the not-so-wonderful side of Gotham. I couldn't afford much on my small pay.

It was a tiny apartment on the third floor of a brick building, my only window facing the alley. It was dank, reeked and was anything but comfortable, but I had tried my best to spruce up my surroundings as much as I could. I had painted the walls a light blue and added a rug here and some decorations there, but the effect couldn't really make the depressing surroundings much better. My cat, fiery colored Cheyenne, was the only company I had. She was an asshole most of the time, but she usually cuddled with me at night and that was all I really needed.

When I had made it back to my apartment, sighing as I set my keys on my dingy counter, I shuffled over to my bed and threw myself onto it.

"I should clean that counter." I muffled my words in my pillow. Cheyenne crawled onto my back and curled into a ball. "Oh, wait." I rolled my eyes. "I already cleaned that counter. Five times. It's just permanently dirty." My sarcasm was wasted on the cat.

It was only about five 'o'clock when I had gotten home, but I fell asleep right there, not even bothering to get up and change my clothes. That was the last thing I remembered.

But now I was stuck in a box somewhere. I had struggled for a while, but there wasn't enough room for me to move around much and I ended up hurting myself more than actually helping the situation. There were three small holes just above my face that I could see a dim amount of light through. I had no idea how long I had been here, but I eventually remained still and tried my best to listen. There were two voices. But I had no idea who they belonged to.

"What do you mean you got the wrong girl?" This voice was a man, and he hissed through his teeth angrily.

"Well, puddin'..." This was a woman and she seemed to be pleading with the man. "I didn't know. She looks like him. And she only recently moved here. I thought for sure it was his cousin."

"Well, obviously, you were wrong." Something slammed onto a metal surface and the metallic sound reverberated around the room. "Go. Fix it. NOW!" He suddenly bellowed.

The woman whimpered and shuffled from the room. I could hear the door close heavily behind her.

I was breathing heavily by this point. I listened intently as footsteps slowly began to near my box. Suddenly, there was a weight on top of it and I realized that the man had sat upon it.

"She really is quite useless sometimes." He whispered. "And her devotion disgusts me."

I didn't respond, so he continued to speak to himself.

"All I want is Batman. All I want is for him to give himself up. And the whole situation with Dent before was tiresome. Wayne knows something. I know he does. We figured," He chuckled momentarily. "That you were his blood. If we took you, surely he would come around to finally negotiate with me. But that whore…" He growled. "Can never do anything right."

By this time, I had worked up the courage to squeak out a timid sentence.

"I...I don't think I'm who you think I am." I mumbled from inside the box. "Please," I pleaded. "Just let me go."

The man punched the top of the box and I scrunched down farther inside. He stood and walked a few feet away.

"Well if you want to be free, you'll just have to think outside the box!" He cackled and strolled out a door, the cold metallic clang as it closed was the last noise I heard for some time.


	2. A Sweet Conundrum

By the time anyone had returned to the room I was in, my stomach was practically growling from hunger, as if a tiger had somehow crawled in and was making its home there. I had never felt this hungry in my life. When I heard someone open the door, I immediately banged on the lid of my box as hard as I could and screamed.

"Help!" I pleaded. "Please…" I banged again and almost cried from exhaustion. "I just want some food."

There was a low laugh and it echoed throughout the room.

"You haven't thought outside the box yet, as I can see." It was the man from before. I shivered.

"I thought," his weight fell upon the top of the box again. "I thought we might get to know each other. I'll ask a question, and for each answer I'll give you a piece of food. So answer correctly or… Well…" He laughed to himself. "You'll be toast."

It was a bad joke. The one from before and this one now was starting to bring together a picture of who my captor really was.

Gotham was protected by the Batman, a mysterious vigilante who avoided the police and yet brought down many criminals and sent them to Arkham Asylum. One of the more lethal enemies to Gotham was The Joker, a psychotic killer who had no true aims in life except to inflict harm on all those he deemed worthy. My hunch was that he had somehow found me. Why he had chosen me was a question I could not answer. But if this was The Joker… I was in for a very bad time.

"Alright." His voice softened and seemed almost kind. "What is your name, dear?"

I hesitated, considering an alias, but figured it would do me no good in my current situation.

"L-Leyla." I shifted uncomfortably inside the cramped space, a section of the box's hard plastic design digging into my knees and pinching my ankle. "Leyla Thomas." I managed to shove a small amount of confidence into my shaking voice.

Before I had even realized what had happened, a tiny hatch had opened in the top of my box and something dropped directly onto my face, falling and rolling next to my ear. Just as suddenly as the compartment had opened, the beam of light disappeared as it closed. I contorted, reaching for whatever had fallen next to me. Having gripped it and holding it awkwardly up towards the three holes of light, I realized that it was a plump, ripe strawberry. I tore the leaves off ravenously and shoved the entire thing in my mouth, the sweet juices bursting against my tongue as I bit into it. I made a small noise of satisfaction. It was the greatest strawberry I had ever tasted.

I heard him chuckle outside and I self consciously chewed in embarrassed silence.

"Next question." He shifted on top of the box and took a moment to think before speaking. "What brought you to Gotham?"

I tried my best to wipe my face of the strawberry juices before answering, but ended up spreading it across my face instead. "I finished my Business degree at Berkeley a few months ago and was offered an internship at Wayne Enterprises." I was building a small amount of confidence now. It struck me as I was speaking that this was the first real conversation I'd had with someone since moving here. I never really considered myself to be a shy person. In fact, I was very outgoing and communicative, one of the biggest reasons as to my success in the business world so far. I was always willing to take chances. But as I sat there and explained my position as head of marketing for the Telemarketing portion of Wayne Enterprises, a very small, but crucial part of the enormous company, I realized that I had not taken any time in the first months that I had been here to truly indulge in the socialite atmosphere that Gotham offered. I was appalled to realize that I was relieved to be having this conversation with my yet unnamed captor. My stomach suddenly clenched in a knot as this realization came to me, the second strawberry falling onto my face from the hatch above.

I ate it swiftly, but quietly and waited in anticipation for his next question.

"Where are you from?"

"Kansas." I replied immediately. I was not proud of my past and would answer no more questions about no matter how hungry I got.

Another strawberry dropped in.

"What do you fear most?"

I froze at this question, not expecting something so off the wall so early into the conversation. A small twinge at the back of my mind knew I shouldn't answer. Somehow he would end up using this against me, and I was scared shitless at the moment. Any worse and I was anticipating a heart attack.

"Do… Do I have to answer? Please don't make me answer that." I shivered, images of things I feared filling my head.

"Yes."

It was a simple answer. But his tone made it abundantly clear that there was no backing out of this. I had to answer whether I liked it or not.

I sat for a long moment, silent and contemplating. I breathed heavily before opening my lips to speak, shaking as I unleashed a sentence I knew I would come to regret.

"It's silly really." My fingers suddenly dug into my knee involuntarily. "There's lots of things that scare me. Sharks. The dark. Bugs. Being alone. But the only thing I truly fear…" I cringed as the words slipped from my mouth in a dying whisper. "Is the loss of reality."

We talked for some time after that, and I obtained several more strawberries and was comforted when he finally left me on my own, the familiar clang of the door signaling his exit. I was filled with a sense of relief at his absence that was quickly met with an undying, all-consuming panic as the reality of my situation set in.

How long was I going to be kept in this box? How long had I been there already? What was he going to do with the knowledge that I had bestowed upon him? Would he take advantage of my fears?

I laid still and shivered in terror, contemplating what sort of plan would be exacted upon me. I feared madness itself. I feared losing my sanity. And it wasn't that hard to lose it in the first place. How far from sanity was I? And how much farther until I lost myself?


	3. Thick as Thieves

"What do you mean he has no cousin?" The Joker shouted.

"I'm sorry." The woman had returned and she seemed even more apologetic than before. "I said she's his cousin. But not his first cousin. They're third cousins twice removed." She tapped her long nails upon the wall in frustration. "So I'm sure little Brucey Wucey won't feel too large of a tug of loyalty towards her. Maybe we should let her go."

I could only hear the two of them breathing for a long moment before she made a small squealing sound and I realized that he was choking her.

"Let. Her. Go?" He appeared to squeeze tighter and she gasped, but to no avail. "I can't just let. Her. Go." He released her, tossing her across the floor and she hit her head with a dull thud. "You've been annoying me lately Harley. You're a harlot and a whore. It's a wonder I let you stay here with me, on account of all the stupidity-" I could almost hear his spit flying as he spoke vehemently. "That you've been graciously ruining my plans with."

So I was right. It was Harley Quinn and The Joker that I was dealing with. I shivered in realization of my predicament.

Harley crawled across the floor and seemed to be groveling at his feet.

"Please. Please." She whined. "I'll do anything. Please don't make me leave."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you out and send a call to the police about your whereabouts." I could feel the evil grin in his words.

She yelped, sobbing into her hands, muffling her words.

"I'll bring you something. I'll… I'll steal some money for you. Just please. Please don't kick me out, puddin'. There's nowhere for me to go."

The Joker seemed to soften a bit.

"Make it several million…."

She muttered hastened thank yous into his pant legs as he continued. He seemed to be thinking hard and finally threw the last condition out to her.

"And bring me a policeman's head on a stick." He laughed. "We're lacking in decoration around here. Thought we could get a _head_ start."


	4. Water Works

I was left in my confined space for a long amount of time after this. I was beginning to cramp all over, and to be honest, I _really_ had to go to the bathroom.

When someone finally entered the room, I meekly knocked on the top of my box and ask politely if someone would be willing to take me to the bathroom.

It was quiet for a long time again, when suddenly, I heard the clicking of the latches outside and the lid of the box swung away from me.

The air was cool and damp, and there were bright, industrial lights hanging above. I was so blinded by the light that I couldn't see the person's face who had released me for a long moment. I squinted, stretching my limbs as I tried to somehow extract myself from my plastic prison.

When my eyes had finally adjusted to the light, I scrutinized the face of my captor. I was correct in my assumption that he was The Joker. His face was painted, his signature bright red smile blazingly apparent next to the white paint he had spread across the rest of his face. His eyes were blackened, making them appear to be hollow and distant. His greasy, green hair hung limply across his brow.

I looked away awkwardly, averting my eyes to the concrete floor. I had no idea why, but I felt meek in front of him. I felt strangely acquainted with him from our short talks, and that made me feel extremely uncomfortable.

He grabbed my right arm near the shoulder roughly, tugging me to my feet and pulling me from the box, my bare feet hitting the cold floor.

I had been in that box for such a long time that my knees buckled underneath me and I stumbled, falling on my hands and knees roughly. He seemed annoyed at my lack of motor control and tugged me roughly back to my feet, dragging me along whenever I stumbled.

I was becoming rather dizzy as we walked a short way out towards the smaller section of, what I presumed to be, the warehouse where I was being held.

Before I had a true minute to really collect myself and my thoughts, I was thrown roughly into a small bathroom, the heavy metal door slamming behind me. I glanced around slowly, noting that the small window, far too small for me to try to climb through, was covered with iron bars besides. There was no way for me to escape and I sighed in defeat, doing my business and knocking lightly on the door.

The door opened suddenly and an armload of objects was thrown at me, hitting me all over, some objects clattering to the floor, a towel landing over my head and covering my face. I pulled it off silently and looked to the door which was just closing. I heard the click of the lock and looked down at the items strewn across the floor. There was clothing and shower supplies and I gathered them and stepped into the dingy shower. I was shaking, and the water was cold.

I had a long time to think now that I was alone. I placed a hand on the shower wall, letting the water rolling over my body and dripping from my face. I was scared.

I hadn't even realized that I was crying until a loud sob echoed through the small bathroom. My body shook with the force of my sobs and I slowly curled into a ball in the corner of the shower as the terror and fear took over my body and I fell apart.

Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this fate?

The bathroom door suddenly banged open and I screamed as the shower curtain was ripped back and I scrambled for the towel, covering myself in a vain attempt to hide my nakedness.

It was The Joker. He stared blankly at me for a few seconds before mechanically turning off the water.

"You were taking too long."

Just as quickly as he had entered, he swept back out of the bathroom, the door banging hollowly behind him.

I stepped out of the shower solemnly, drying myself off, wrapping my dripping hair into the half soaked towel. I searched through the items strewn across the floor for my undergarments and pulled them on without thinking.

My clothes that I had been wearing before were gone, a folded garment taking their place in the middle of the floor. It seemed out of place, so neatly folded in the midst of the scattered chaos across the floor. I picked it up heavily and held it up. It was a sheer nightgown with short sleeves and an empire waistline. It was white.

I pulled it on, the lightness of the fabric sending shocks of goosebumps through my skin. I felt half naked with it on, but there were no other alternatives. I walked to the door, pulling down on the handle and stepping outside, humiliated and red in the face. I did not look up from the floor, but heard the swish of fabric as someone stood and walked towards me.

"Your room is this way." The Joker's voice brushed my cheek as he passed.

I shuffled after him and refused to look up from the floor. I distractedly stepped inside the room, the door closing behind me, the lock clicking.

It took several minutes of my body shaking and fighting my inner turmoil before I was capable of looking up from the dingy floor.

It was a small room, with similarly barred windows as the bathroom. There was a small cot in the corner and I shuffled over to it silently, sinking onto its surface in disbelief. I was out of the box from before, but it was simply replaced by a locked room.

As I laid down and fell asleep, I felt no more free than before. If anything, I felt more alone and defeated in the larger room.


	5. Exuberant Evil

The morning sun shone through the bars on the window, landing squarely in the middle of my face. I squinted, groaning and turning away from the light, scrunching into a ball of sleepy sadness. I didn't want to open my eyes. I had barely slept, and all of the energy I had was wasted on trying to forget where I was and how bad the situation truly was.

As I began to crack my eyes open to the blazing light that was bouncing around the white walled room, I was confronted with The Joker's face mere inches from mine. I screamed, flailing around and becoming entangled in the sheet, accidentally kicking myself dully to the floor with a thud. I sat there and breathed heavily for a long time, the two of us locked in a visual impasse. If I was going to continue to be suddenly startled like this, I feared I would have a large chance of dying from cardiac arrest.

He was the first to break eye contact, looking distractedly at the unkempt bed before him, shaking his head as he pressed his knuckles into the surface of the cot, looking back to me with a smirk on his face and amusement in his eyes.

I was still calming myself down and I blinked silently, waiting for him to speak.

"What do you want?" He smiled, and I looked away uncomfortably.

"For you to let me go." My brow furrowed in frustration and I looked back to him in a surge of defiance and anger. "But I've got a sinking feeling that your question was referring to something else." There was a hint of sass in my voice.

His eyebrow raised and he looked both surprised and curious. He seemed to scrutinize me even closer, as if he saw something he hadn't seen before that sparked his interest.

"I was referring to your breakfast actually." He laughed, moving from behind the bed and leaning against the door with a careless, cool air that seemed out of character from what little I'd seen of him.

I glared at him, extracting myself clumsily from my entangled state within the sheet. When free, I stood, brushing myself off before returning my gaze to my captor before me.

"Well?" I said in annoyance when he did not move for a long moment.

He shook his head and chuckled under his breath, turning and opening the door, stepping outside and holding it open for me to walk through.

I set my shoulders rigidly, every ounce of defiance I had surging through me like an angry drug, stepping angrily through the door, refusing to look The Joker in the face.

I didn't quite know where I was going and I refused to look back and give him the satisfaction of my asking for help. I instead wandered in the most purposeful manner I could muster in the direction I felt was most likely to bring me to wherever this mystical kitchen was located.

I, not surprisingly, ended up finding a dead end hallway, angrily turning about face and storming back towards where I went. I somehow managed to find my way back to the main room where I had been held in the box. The scenery was drastically different.

Where harsh, artificial light had been before, chandeliers with hundreds of burning candles hung from the ceiling. My jaw dropped. It was, honestly, beautiful, and I took a moment to really take in the flickering lights against the dark walls. There was a long table, covered in a long table cloth and set with table settings fit for royalty. I looked back questioningly towards The Joker.

He seemed amused at my confusion, and he glided to the end of the table and pulled the chair out, motioning for me to sit.

I timidly complied, confused.

"What can I say…" He skipped to the other end of the table and slid into his chair. It scraped across the floor and he laughed, scooting it back to its proper place. He leaned onto his elbow. "I treat my prisoners well."

His eyes softened and his smile was almost kind.

I averted my gaze to my plate and picked up the crescent in front of me and took a small bite.

Today was going to be a long day.


	6. Flying High

After breakfast, I was promptly escorted back to my room. The door was locked behind me and things returned to normal. It seemed that the events of this morning were almost entirely part of a dream. Why was he being kind to me at all? He seemed so… Distant, unpredictable.

Plus, the whole situation with Harley? I had no idea what was going on at this point. Was this just a game? Was I just a pawn, or did I have a bigger role than I realized?

I fell back onto my cot, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, finding designs in the cracked ceiling, a crude, but effective, form of entertainment. I didn't know how much time had passed, but I had fallen asleep sometime in the middle.

When I was woken from my dream, The Joker tugged on my arm and pulled me harshly from my room, my unsteady, drowsy movements aggravating him.

"Where are we goin'?" I slurred through my sleepiness, rubbing my eyes with my free hand as he tugged me along.

"You'll see." He said gruffly as he tugged me into a dingy elevator.

At this point, it finally dawned on me why my body was reacting so slowly. There must have been some drugs in the food that I had eaten this morning.

As the elevator ascended, my head lolled to the side, resting on the breast pocket of The Joker's suit. I found the action revolting, but was incapable of removing myself from the situation, my limbs deadened and heavy.

He looked down at me with a look of disgust, a sneer crossing his face. He seemed ready to throw me across the elevator, but didn't move me.

When the doors finally opened, we were faced with a tiny room of glass with a door leading out to the roof. He tugged me cruelly behind him and I stumbled. There was a helicopter perched lightly on the dingy roof, seeming out of place. It was white, shining and clean.

As The Joker approached with me in tow, the blades began to spin. He shoved me roughly into the back as he ducked in as well and closed the door behind him.

I must have passed out from the drugs on the floor, because the next thing I remembered was The Joker wrapping a rope around my waist.

"What?" I said in drugged confusion. I glanced out the window and saw the sparkling turrets of Wayne Tower. What in the world were we doing here?

The chopper flew closer, and we neared the windows of Bruce's office. I glanced at the clock. It was ten o'clock. Bruce surely wouldn't be here at this hour. He'd have been long gone at home, presumably with a fine looking dame rocking with him in bed with a nice glass of champagne. That was more his taste than working late.

I watched in confusion as The Joker threw the door of the helicopter open, a blast of air throwing my locks around my face in a hazy mask that I couldn't see through. I tried to steady myself, but looked down to see my hands tied firmly together. The drugs were still weighing on me and the world seemed to spin.

The Joker grabbed my shoulder roughly, pulling me to my feet and shoving me towards the open door of the helicopter.

"Enjoy your trip." he growled roughly into my ear.

Before my drugged mind had a moment to understand that I should have been shaking with fear, I was shoved out the open door of the helicopter, the sound of rushing air raking past my ears. I screamed, my hands suddenly roughly yanked back up towards the helicopter, my eyes catching the rope that was tied from my hands to something on the inside of the helicopter. My shoulder was ripped roughly from the socket and I screamed in agony, looking around dazedly as objects in front of me came in and out of focus. I glanced over my shoulder noticing the windows of Wayne Tower, glinting from the light of the moon. There was nobody in sight, and no lights on to signal that I had any hope of catching someone's attention in the building. I glanced down, instantly regretting the decision. We were about forty floors up, the top of the building, and I screamed myself hoarse from terror.

"Please!" I begged, tears springing from my eyes as I looked up at The Joker, his face set in a sickening grin.

"We're trying to call him out, precious." He grinned down at me, his face suddenly contorting in anger as he glanced back to the building. I whipped my head around and looked as well. My heart was pounding in my chest and ears, and I noticed a dark figure standing with palms against the glass. It was Bruce. Who would have guessed he'd have been here? I made a mental note to reassess his character.

But at the moment, I was more worried about my forty floor fall to the pavement below.

Bruce threw the window open and yelled, but neither The Joker, nor I could understand what he said over the sound of the whirling blades above.

He ran back for something in his office and reappeared with a megaphone that he promptly stuck out the window.

"Let her go, Joker." He growled into the speaker.

"Very poor choice of words, Bruce." The Joker cackled and my rope slacked, sending me plummeting down.

The air was ripped from my lungs and I was suddenly yanked up, tearing my shoulder again and I screamed in agony. I couldn't keep the tears at bay any longer. They streaked down my cheeks in rivulets.

I couldn't contain a coherent thought and the drugs were finally kicking in full swing. Everything was flying by in swirling colors and the fact that The Joker and Bruce Wayne were having a conversation was entirely lost on me. Their voices were distorted and I was consumed with an unending panic that swirled my mind in and out of consciousness. I could not understand what people were saying and the panic continued to force my heart into an unstoppable, pounding mess. I was sweating, my eyes twitching, trying to stay open. The pain was surreal. What little tidbits I could figure out were incoherent and indecipherable.

My head lolled back and I looked up at The Joker.

He was holding the end of my rope. With a sickening cackled, he let it slip from his fingers.


	7. A Change of Scenery

When I awoke, I was drowsy and disoriented. The scenery had changed. I was no longer in my room. Curled up under the covers, I peeked out apprehensively. I was in a dark wood, four-poster bed with sheer curtains that were rippling with the breeze coming from the open window beyond. I began to breathe faster, nervous at the sudden change of scenery. I debated whether to move slowly or to simply whirl around and scan my surroundings. I decided on the latter, throwing the duvet, and sitting up in a sudden burst of movement.

"'Mornin'" The Joker was seated in the corner in a tall backed chair, an old, worn book in his hands. He closed it, a small puff of dust visible in the rays of sunshine pouring from the open windows. I looked over to them and was dismayed to find that, although they were open, they were still securely barred.

"So uh…" I tried to flatten my bed head, but if there was one thing my hair truly inherited from me, it was my stubborn nature. My attempts at subduing it were in vain. "Am I going to be hopped up on drugs today or just the normal me?" I glared at him.

He smiled, glancing down at the book in his hands and running his fingertips over the cover.

"Which would you prefer?" His voice was barely above a whisper and I shivered uncomfortably.

I didn't answer, simply looking away towards the billowing curtains. They were beautiful. And if I had learned anything during my captivity so far, it was to appreciate the beautiful things while they're available to you.

The Joker sighed, standing almost mechanically, reminding me of an old British professor we had learned under at Berkeley. He looked at me with a mixture of passive apathy and a hint of treasuring affection. I was uncomfortable, as always.

"We have plans today, actually." He stepped towards the door and opened it, someone handing something inside. He walked over to me and laid them gently in my lap. It was a dress.

I looked down at it without understanding.

"Put it on." He nodded, turning and leaving the room to give me some privacy.

It was blue, not dark blue, but not sky blue either. It was long, falling halfway down my calves. It was a soft fabric, moving with me in sync, neither satin nor silk, but something I had not worn before. It was cinched at the waist with a white bow in the back, the sleeves short, but puffed with lace around the collar. I liked it. I felt old fashioned, but very cute. I smiled without realizing it.

I spun around, the skirt swirling around me in a waterfall of fabric. I felt beautiful.

The door suddenly opened, and I halted, startled.

"You ready?" It was a gruff voice not belonging to The Joker.

"Yes." I quickly tied my hair up with a spare ribbon that had fallen to the floor. "Where are we going?"

The man shrugged, tugging me through the door. "You'll see."


	8. Omelette, Anyone?

"Omelette coming right up." I smiled as I fiddled around in the kitchen, The Joker sitting leisurely in one of the chairs in the dining room silently watching me as I swept around. I was a surprisingly good cook, a hidden talent I rarely displayed. Plus, this prevented me from having to look him in the eye.

I tried to make the process of cooking his breakfast last longer, but his piercing gaze skewered me in the back and my hands were shaking nervously.

"Do you…" The Joker paused. "Have any friends?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "HA… If you call my cat a friend, then sure."

"For such a pretty girl," I jumped as he suddenly appeared behind me, his fingers trailing down my neck. I almost dropped the omelette, mid flip, onto the floor. "It amazes me your lack of social bravery."

"Uh-uh-uhm." I barely could choke that magnificent sentence out with the sheer terror that was coursing through my body.

"May I…" His lips found the skin of my neck and I froze, hardly able to comprehend the newest level of fear I had been throw into. "May I be your friend?"

The room was silent for a long time, his face hovering just above the skin on my shoulder before he suddenly laughed, pulling a gun from a holster on his side. Pointing it directly at my foot, he fired before I could react.

The pain was immediate and debilitating. I crumpled to the floor, clutching my bloodied foot, unable to form any sort of sound in my throat. Instead, tears streamed down my face and I look up at The Joker in disbelief.

As if nothing had happened, he grabbed a plate and flipped the omelette on top, turning towards the table to sit and eat. I reached out, grabbing his pant leg weakly as the lights blurred and I tried to speak.

"Help…" That was all I got out as my body crumpled and I passed out in my own pool of blood.


	9. Sweets in the Kitchen

"Tsk tsk." I came too a few minutes after I had left, and The Joker was perched above me, gleefully eating his omelette. "You shouldn't pass out when I have so many compliments to give to the chef. Magnificent!" He licked his fingers and I looked away, revolted.

A sudden pain in my foot caused me to look down, seeing an elderly doctor scowling at and bandaging my foot.

"Oh cheer up, Hobbley!" The Joker cackled. "Tis but a flesh wound."

The doctor scowled over his half moon glasses at The Joker. "If you'd stop blowing holes in people, that would greatly improve my mood. But you're not capable of that, are you, you maniacal fiend." The blatant disrespect for The Joker made me gasp. Surely he wasn't going to get away with that.

Joker chuckled softly, but did not react negatively. I was shocked.

Doctor Hobbley finished and quietly gathered his things and left the room. I sat silently and watched him go. Was he free to move about as he pleased or was he a prisoner too? I wished I could ask him.

I suddenly glanced down at my dress and groaned.

"What?" The Joker snapped and I cringed.

"M-my dress." I pointed, slowly moving to a crouch to stand. "There's blood all over it. That's not going to come out." I stood with the help of the counter, refusing to place my injured foot anywhere near the ground.

Joker smiled, stepping softly with each step, purposefully moving slowly, dragging out the moment. When he finally reached me, one hand sidled up to my waist, the other entangling with the bloody fingers on my left hand.

"I think…" He whispered, inching closer, his breath hot on my neck, heavy and wet. "I think it's beautiful."

He took his hand from mine, pressing me against the counter. He drew a line with his finger along my collar bone, leaving a bloody trail.

I looked into his eyes fully for the first time, shocked and scared at what I saw. He seemed vulnerable at that moment, and I could almost see the glimmer of a sullen child hidden in them. His demeanor seemed to welcome any damage I could possibly cause him. As if he wanted me to have a knife and to plunge it deep into his belly, as if death would be better for him than whatever was haunting his mind.

I shivered involuntarily and before I could react, he was moving. His hand flew to my cheek, pressing lightly as his lips clashed with mine, a warm, very unexpected kiss.

I squeaked beneath him out of surprise but he pressed closer to me, his grip on my waist tighter than before, pulling me into him, his kiss deep.

I would later throw up from this event, but at the time I was too shocked to form thoughts. Before I could comprehend what was happening, it was over and his cheek was pressed to mine, his breathing quick and heavy.

I remained stock still and silent.

"Time for bed, I think." He snapped and someone appeared in the doorway. A henchman. He sauntered over and grabbed my arm, tugging me needlessly from the room.

My head was swirling so fast that I didn't even realize that I was back in my room until my roiling stomach made itself aware and I ran to the bathroom to heave and retch for a long time.


	10. Change

Every time I looked at him my stomach would twinge. He made me feel sick and he seemed aware of this fact and I didn't see him for a long time.

Rather than growing more tired with my situation, I was frightened to find myself very comfortable with my daily routine, if not enjoying it. I was given free meals, and every form of entertainment I could possibly desire, Playstation included. It was on one of the days where I was whittling away in Minecraft that he suddenly appeared in the doorway. I didn't notice him for a long time, but jumped, almost throwing the controller, when I did.

He didn't smile, just stood there and watched me with cold eyes.

I stared back in fear, wondering what his next move would be.

"Leyla…" I jumped as he spoke, his shoulder leaving the door frame as he walked over to my bed and sat down.

"Y-yes?" I trembled slightly.

"I…" His face grew mildly confused and my heart felt the tiniest twinge of sympathy. "I don't want you to fear me." He looked up into my eyes, laying his hand on top of mine. I recoiled slightly from his touch, but remained still, as not to incur his wrath.

"You know," he laughed slightly under his breath, "we really didn't have need of you this whole time. Bats never even noticed you were gone. I've… I've been keeping you around…" He looked away, his hand leaving mine and running through his greasy hair awkwardly. "I've been keeping you around for the company."

This statement hit my like a brick, almost knocking the wind out of me. A sudden twinge of guilt filling my heart. Maybe it was the Stockholm syndrome talking, but I suddenly felt bad for him. For everything. Had I been misjudging his character this entire time? Was he truly the evil son of a bitch everyone believed him to be?

I vaguely remembered a passing thought that had struck me during a psychology class I had taken in high school. Every criminal started off as a wailing baby, helpless like the rest of us. Every criminal was a young child crying to their mother over a skinned knee. Every criminal was a reckless teenager. We weren't so different, he and I.

I shook my head at my craziness, blaming this entirely on the Stockholm syndrome, but I timidly reached out and placed a hand on his.

He seemed surprised, but grateful, at my touch, bringing my hand up to his cheek.

He winced, as if in pain, and I looked at him in concern. He shook his head wordlessly and simply leaned over into the pillow that was in my lap, his feet swinging up to rest on the bed. I shook slightly, a part of me still very scared of the man before me, but I ran my fingers through his hair nonetheless. That moment marked a very sharp turn in our story…


	11. Scared

The more and more that I thought about everything, the less and less I hated The Joker and the more I began to hate the Batman. Where was he? Why had no one noticed my absence? My anger boiled day by day, simmering beneath the surface.

I was given more freedoms the longer that I had been there and was able to leave my room, escorted of course, to most places that I wished to visit in the building. It was a vast, BLAND world I lived in, and it soon came to a point when seeing my captor was no longer as terrifying, but rather the only solace and entertainment with which to distract my mind from the nothingness I had surrounding me.

One morning, I heard footsteps approaching my bedroom door and I sprang up from my bed, my nightgown falling off of one shoulder as I bounced happily up and down on the balls of my feet in eager anticipation of whatever visitor was to enter my door at any moment.

The door creaked open slowly, a small shaft of light spilling onto the floor, but it was a woman's shadow that was blocking the light and I shrunk back in confusion. In my entire time here I had not once seen another girl.

The room was dark except for that shaft of dull, yellow light. She walked in slowly, one stilettoed foot in front of the other with the swaggering grace of a runway model. Her face was dark and I was unable to discern any of her features, but her silhouette was sharp. She was fit, athletic even, but somehow curvaceous and sexy without even trying. Part of me hated her instantly.

"So…" Her voice was low, a twinge of anger hidden beneath her tone. "You're the little whore."

My face contorted between anger and confusion, finally settling into fearful curiosity. "What?" I said incredulously.

"You." She pointed with a slender, dagger like finger, stepping towards me so her face was inches from mine. Blonde, slender and blue eyed? This girl had it all. My stomach twinged with jealousy, mixed with fear. "You're the little whore that I brought to my Puddin'. You're the little bitch who keeps taking his time away from me." Her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in anger as her finger jabbed forward and struck me harshly in the chest.

Her dagger like finger nail struck my sternum, cutting through the flesh that stood between them, a trail of blood quickly dripping down my stomach and staining my dress as she pulled her finger free. I cried out involuntarily and immediately pressed my hand to the wound, shaking as I lifted my hand away, skin glistening with my own blood.

In complete disbelief, I raised my eyes to hers, my body suddenly angry and simultaneously panicking.

"What?..." I trailed off as my head started spinning.

She smirked, reaching to her side and unclipping a revolver from a double holster around her back. It was a smart looking gun' with gold inlay and intricate designs etched into the metal. She pulled the lever back, pointing it directly in between my eyes.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you."

I stood there, speechless, petrified and trembling in a now torn and bloodied nightgown, my bare feet cold against the concrete. My mind raced as a tear slid down my cheek, frantically trying to come up with anything that would make her go away, but coming up hopelessly blank.

"I'm not very patient," She growled through gritted teeth. "You're keeping me waiting."

Where normally, I tend to remain quiet and reserved, apparently, when exposed to extreme fear I become a babbling idiot. And I mean a complete idiot. What follows went a little something like this:

"Wait, I don't even know who you are or where I am or why I am even here so I have no idea why you are mad at me and oh god please don't hurt me I didn't do anything and I'm innocent and all I really do is sit around and do nothing and most of the time when the Joker is here he scares the shit out of me, fucking look at my foot and...and...and...OHGODPLEASEDON'TKILLME!"

At this point her face had contorted, her finger pulling sharply back on the trigger, but a muffled popping noise was all the sound the gun made.

"Shit… I forgot… dummy rounds in this one."

She quickly replaced the gun in it's holster, reaching just as quickly for the other one, freeing it from its leather prison and immediately firing a bullet into the ceiling, dust and debris falling like shitty snowflakes onto my shoulders.

"And I'm Harley by the way." She smiled unexpectedly and shot out her hand for a handshake. I looked at it skeptically, before reaching my hand out in confusion at her sudden mood change.

I am so, so stupid.

She immediately grabbed my hand, moving in a blur and quickly twisting my wrist painfully behind my back, simultaneously shoving me as hard as she could against the concrete wall, my skull cracking against its surface. There was no sound for a few seconds as my head suddenly felt like a balloon. She shoved the barrel of the gun harshly into the flesh of my neck, her breath warm and hot on the other side of my neck as she slowly bit my earlobe. I shook visibly, in terrible pain and terror.

"Now…" She growled into my ear. "We have two options… possibly three. You make me angry, I shoot and kill you. You don't, and I might let you live. But only on one condition…" She paused, waiting for me to ask what that condition was, but I made no sound and she proceeded to speak. "You have to make him angry. You have to make him hate you. Make him want to kill you, and I promise I will get you out of here safe, and things will return to normal where he pays attention to me instead of a two bit hostage bitch."

She paused again, waiting for an answer from me, but I simply whimpered and she let go of my arm harshly. It fell limp at my side, broken.

She started to laugh, pulling a knife from her belt. I squirmed, backing up against the wall, gingerly trying to cradle my mangled arm.

Lunging, her blade slashed the skin of my cheek sharply, blood now dripping from my face as well as my chest. I just simply couldn't take it anymore and screamed at the top of my lungs.

For some reason, this made her angrier and she proceeded to try to repeatedly stab me, but I quickly wrapped my non mangled hand around the blade. Some of her attacks made contact, but only caused minor flesh wounds over my body.

Her free hand flashed up and quickly wrapped around my throat and I began gasping for air. Everything began to become a blur until a flash of green behind her head made me focus for half a second.

Before I could even fully comprehend what had happened, the only thing I could feel was a wet warmth. Then Harley's hand fell limply from around my neck and my mind started to process what had just happened. The Joker stood over us both, a bloodied knife in hand and my eyes quickly darted to Harley. Her body was slumped to the side and at first i didn't know what was wrong with her until my eyes trailed to the gaping wound in her neck that was seeping blood onto the concrete floor. That's when I realized the warm wetness I felt was her blood… Sprayed over my face and body.

I looked up in horror into the Joker's face as he quickly knelt beside me, cradling my face to his, his knife still in his hand.

I screamed.

And I didn't stop.


	12. Medicine

"Shhhhh…" He whispered into my ear, having finally calmed me down to the point where I wasn't screaming, but still sobbing uncontrollably.

I had instantly reached out and clung to his jacket the moment I had realized what had happened and I hadn't quite let go yet. He had somehow managed to maneuver me onto the bed without sending me through immense pain and we laid there together for what felt like hours until I was as calm as I would be for a long while.

The entire time he never really spoke, simply running his fingers through my blood matted hair and pulling me close to his chest, the sound of his heartbeat the only thing grounding me to this world. I felt like I was in a drug induced, neverending nightmare and my body was prone to having sudden fits of terror where I would become rigid and tremble. At these times he would pull me closer, his hands spread warmly onto the skin of my back. I think he felt pity for me, which was a weird emotion for him to be showing me, and equally strange that I was completely receptive of it. He had just brutally slaughtered his long time girlfriend slash sidekick in favor of me. That fact both scared the shit out of me and made me feel safe, as crazy as that sounds.

When my sniffling and breathing finally returned to normal, I clutched his lapel lightly before burying my face farther into his chest, causing a small, airy laugh to come from his nose.

"Why…" I said timidly, shaking and muffling my words in his clothing.

He did not answer for a long moment, his fingers pausing in my hair.

"You're important. She was becoming tiresome." He finally spoke in a hushed tone as he buried his face in my hair.

"But…" I looked up at him from his chest in confusion. "You've been with her forever. Everyone knows you two are inseparable. The King and Queen of Gotham."

He laughed, low and sensual, a shiver running through me. I couldn't tell if I liked that or not, my emotions were such a confused jumble at this point that nothing made sense.

"Do you really think there has only ever been one Harley?" His breath was warm against my scalp.

I sat there for a moment, analyzing and processing that statement. I looked up at him, then back down at his chest, then down at my chest which was covered in dried, cracking blood.

"So… what's that supposed to mean?"

"So far there have been three Harley Quinns. Yes, Dr. Quinzel was the first. That's where the legend started. But I grew tired of her ceaseless puppy love and ended it. There were two after her. The one you just met was named Lillia." He gently pulled his arm out from under me, flexing his fingers and massaging his palm. When he noticed my quizzical expression, he smiled. "It's numb."

I nodded, accidentally moving my arm and suddenly crying out in pain. The Joker jumped up quickly, racing towards the door, he spoke. "I completely forgot. I'll go grab the Doctor." He disappeared, but seconds later his head popped back into the door frame which made me giggle. He looked like a decapitated puppet. "I'll be right back."

I waited, impatiently, cradling my arm gingerly. It wasn't a bad break. No bones sticking out of my arm, but it was visibly crooked. But only slightly. Hurt like a mother. I breathed deeply, withstanding the pain.

The doctor soon shuffled into the room, looking both annoyed and sluggish.

He examined me and I yelped a few times, so he stuck me with some morphine and after that I fell asleep.


	13. Surrender

I woke up, dazed and confused, rolling over and immediately noticing the dead weight of the cast on my arm. Everything suddenly came flooding back and I looked around frantically for The Joker, noticing the large bloodstain on the floor. Who ever had cleaned it up did piss poor job. It looked like they had simply pushed around on the floor with a dirty mop. I heaved as I thought about Harley's neck, gaping and gushing blood all over my bedroom floor.

I banged on my door frantically, yelling hey as many times as my dry, sore throat would let me. When panic began to set in and I felt I was going to be stuck in this murder room forever, the door finally flung open, throwing me back a few steps. The Joker's face peered around the door in confusion.

Just the mere sight of him caused me to tear up and I ran towards him, quickly wrapping myself as tightly into him as I possibly could.

He laughed, burying his face in my hair and holding me.

"Don't scare me like that, you asshole."

"Sorry…" Mumbling into my hair, he again ran his fingers through my hair. " I figured the medicine would knock you out for a while. Apparently you're more resilient than I had originally thought."

I jabbed him in the side with my finger and he flinched. "Underestimate me again, and next time that might be a knife." I winked up at him and he smiled devilishly, throwing me forcefully and suddenly back onto the bed, crawling on top of me.

What surprised me the most about Joker wasn't his insanity, nor his disfigured face, but it was simply his hidden kindness. He cared, there was still a human left inside of the monster everyone else knew. He was very careful not to touch my arm or any of my bruises as he kissed my neck.

"You keep talking like that and you'll be in grave danger."

"Oh no." I rolled my eyes, mocking him. "Whatever shall I do?"

He bit my neck softly and I yelped.

"Alright fine! Fine! You win!" I giggled as he laid next to me, an arm thrown loosely over my body.

We laid there like that for a while, silent. Unmoving.

He rolled onto his back, resting his gloved hands beneath his head, stretching out as he looked over at me.

"So I have a few questions."

I raised my eyebrow slightly. "And what would those be?"

"Well, first," He moved again, so that he was propped up on his right elbow, facing me. "How do you feel about this place?"

I pondered for a moment before answering. "It's better than my apartment. But it still feels like a prison."

He thought about my answer, mulling something over in his mind before asking his next question.

"Do you hate me?" The words hit me like a brick and my face immediately splashed with concern.

"Of course not." I rolled over and pulled myself into his chest. "You saved me. That means something."

He tried not to let me see him smiling, but I did.

"Alright then," He rested his left hand on my head, looking up at the ceiling, his unkempt hair falling in his face. "Who do you hate?"

Without even thinking, I spat out the word.

"Batman." Every ounce of anger that had built up during my time here poured into that word, my body suddenly trembling with rage.

The Joker looked down at me in shock, a sudden, evil grin spreading warmly across his scarred face. He leaned closer, pressing his lips roughly to mine.

At this moment, I accepted it. Every last bit of it. The insanity. The craziness. Everything. This was my life now and I accepted this fact. I kissed him back. I kissed him back with passion. And we melted into each other, one body, one twisted soul.


End file.
